


Soul Punk Patrick Stump Sex Pollen

by StumpStumpStump



Category: Fall Out Boy, patrick stump - Fandom
Genre: F/M, Non-Consensual, Rape/Non-con Elements, Sex Pollen, Soul Punk Era Patrick Stump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-04
Updated: 2017-10-04
Packaged: 2019-01-08 21:07:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,302
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12262113
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StumpStumpStump/pseuds/StumpStumpStump
Summary: Yep, it's a SP Patrick/reader sex pollen fic. And yes; there is rape. You've been warned.





	Soul Punk Patrick Stump Sex Pollen

        Patrick swiftly but thoroughly greeted the fans outside the venue that night like he always had after shows; it was a special quality he had, one of those things that bring you towards an artist. The fact that he could take the time to meet each and every one of his fans even after putting on such a lively performance, also with it being so late in the night, was spectacular.  
        It was August of 2011, Patrick was on his fall solo tour. I had loved Fall Out Boy from an early age and had formed a liking to the lead singer. Since he had announced he was going on his separate ways for a bit, I have to admit, I was quite excited. I instantly fell in love with his solo work and bought a ticket to one of his shows near me.  
       Now here I am, waiting for my turn to meet Patrick Stump. Only a few people were ahead of me so the nerves really started to kick in by now. I was watching Patrick greet a girl who was only a little shorter than him when I saw something get sprayed at him. He stumbled backwards, mouth open in an "o" shape in shock. I looked around to see who had done it but the suspect must have already got away. I quickly dove into my purse and fished out a few napkins, ran up to him, and handed him them so he could wipe himself off. Through squinting eyes, he grabbed the dry tissue out of my hand, promptly thanked me, and cleaned himself off the best he could. I assumed it was water but with a closer look, it looked to be some kind of watery substance with a slight yellowish tint to it. He finished with the fans before me -- his soaked shirt still sticking to his skin.  
       My turn had came and he addressed me with a smile. He mentioned the incident that had happened just moments before as we took a photo together and he signed my copy of Soul Punk. I told him how strange it was and jokely suggested to him, "If anything, you could come over to my place to clean up! I don't live very far from here!" Followed by laughter to assure it was only a joke. His facial expression turns glad and he admits that after paying for hotel rooms for his band, he had nowhere to stay for the night and expected to just crash at a friend's for the night; but with my offer at hand, he might just take it up. Turning what was a joke into an arrangement. Like the kind of woman I am, I agreed he could. Who wouldn't be okay with Patrick Stump sleeping over at their house?  
       After I gave a more proper introduction, and the rest of the fans were satisfied and left, he got his stuff and followed me out to my car. "Hey, thanks again for letting me do this! It's not too often one allows some strange guy in a band to stay over at their place...", He chatted. "No problem!" I chuckled as I opened the passenger door for him.  
        About five minutes into the drive, at some point through my talk about how I ended up where I lived now, I glanced over and noticed he had a pained look on his face, an arm in his lap, and a hand on the side of his face. I jested "What's wrong? Is my small talk bothering you _that_  much!?" I see him look at me in my periphery, "Huh? Oh no! Just feel a little hot." He responds. I turn the AC up. He chuckles a little through heavy breaths.  
        For the rest of the ride he still seems a little uncomfortable but I dismiss it due to the awkwardness of the situation.  
Once we get to my house the first thing I do is show him around; I point out where the bathroom is, the guest room -- where he will be sleeping, and the room that I will be sleeping in if he needs anything. In a slight hoarsed tone he asks, "Uh, (Y/N), could I get some water?" I facepalmed myself. "Oh yes, of course! I forgot to ask, is there anything else you need - did you eat?" I inquire. "No, no, I already ate - before the show." He bites his lip. "Okay good." I handed him the glass of water. He nearly drank the whole thing like he hadn't had any in days. I didn't think anything of it though. After he was situated I let him know, "So um, when you're on your way out just let me know so that I can lock the door behind you. I'll keep the door cracked so you don't think you are intruding on anything or whatever." He responded wide-eyed with a hum.  
      We said our goodnight to each other, I changed into a bedtime top and shorts, and was off to sleep.  
       I was awoken by what felt like a nudge to my arm and an inaudible noise. I brushed it off without thought and slipped back into unconsciousness.  
       I woke more abruptly this time from the sensation of something probing at my entrance. I opened my eyes to see a black figure between my legs in the darkness. I panic and try to push them off of me only to hear them whimper loudly back. I realize it's Patrick just as he thrusts forward into me. My mind starts racing. I squirm to get away but he holds me down with his arms wrapped around me and his face pressed harshly into my neck. I can feel his body is burning against mine. Damp skin rubbing against skin. Panting hard into my neck. Loads of his precum dripping down to my butt, already making everything slippery. He makes high-pitched moans with every hastened erratic thrust. I gasp, trying to push his hips away from me to get him to stop. His sounds get louder. "ppbbp-ppplease !!!" He holds onto me tighter, making it harder to breathe. "P-pa-Patrick! S-STOP!" I manage to squeak out. With a loud grunt and more whimpering, he cums. I try to collect my thoughts expecting him to stop but he keeps going. I feel his warm seed dripping out of me and collecting into a pile onto the bed below me. He seemed to have an inhuman stamina and an unbelievable ability to somehow regenerate large quantities of semen. I pant loudly and began to whimper too, only his is louder and piercing to my eardrums. I want to scream but it would be drowned out by Patrick's broken moans and the sinful sound of wet skin slapping against wet skin.  
       After about the 3rd time of him cumming, I hear him almost-incomprehensibly choke out "Ss-s-sorry..." He finally removes his face from the crook of my neck and puts his arms to the sides of me. Within the dimness of the room, I can make out the flushed, 'teary-eyed, etched expression on his face. He cums once more and his face is the last thing I see before blacking out from how overwhelming it all was.  
      I wake up that morning at 8:34am and feel my body ache, I feel rubbed raw. I think it was all just a bad dream until I feel the wetness between my legs. I rip the covers off of me and reveal to my horror, the giant wet spot underneath me.  
       I shower, throw the sheets into the wash, and clean up anywhere else there had been a mess. I searched for any kind of note that he may have left but there was nothing.

     Only an unlocked door.


End file.
